


A creamy crisis

by thejourneymaninn



Series: Domestic shenanigans [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fenders, Fluff, Humor, Ice Cream, Lyriumchristmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thejourneymaninn/pseuds/thejourneymaninn
Summary: Anders loves ice cream – possibly just a tiny bit too much - so Fenris is left to deal with the aftermath of Anders making a shocking discovery.
Part of Domestic Shenanigans. Like all fics belonging to this series, it can be read as a stand-alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for the lyriumchristmas campaign on tumblr. Today’s prompt: ‘Ice cream’

A low, guttural moan filled the room, followed by an “Oh….God…” that was so loud Fenris had little doubt the neighbours could hear it too. And Anders was nowhere near finished, a helpless whine spilling from his lips as he shifted just the tiniest bit to the side.

“Just how much ice cream did you eat exactly?” Fenris asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“I regret nothing,” Anders croaked as he pulled down his sweatpants far enough to lessen the pressure on his bloated belly. “I want that to be the inscription on my gravestone!”

“I don’t think we are quite there yet,” Fenris said wryly. He was tempted to caress the impressive mound of pale skin that was currently flashing their ceiling, but thought better of it. Considering Anders had actually chased away his _cat_ (thereby forcing it to take refuge on Fenris’ lap), it was unlikely he would allow even a soothing touch. And as for other ways of touching... Fenris sighed. He doubted Anders would even manage to get up off the couch tonight.

“Yes, yes, take pleasure in my suffering, you callous bastard,” Anders sniffled in a rather unconvincing display of drama.

“I might be more sympathetic if you didn’t jump at _any_ excuse to eat until you get sick – three red traffic lights on the way home, the rising costs of mailing a letter, the release of that game you talk about at all hours being postponed again…”

“ _This_ is serious!” Anders cut in. “A _grey hair_ , Fenris!! It’s official; I’m past my prime. It’s all downhill from here…”

Fenris wordlessly pointed at his own head.

In his defence, Anders did waver for a moment, but as usual, nothing could derail the self-pity train once it had left the station. “It’s different for you! Yours are like…supernaturally white. Like fluffy, soft fairy-tale-snow. And in combination with your skin tone – and those _eyes_ – it just makes you look…”

“If you say ‘exotic’, I will end you.”

“I was going to say _mysterious_. Like someone straight from a fantasy game. It doesn’t make you look _old_. I have a complexion reminiscent of washed-out tennis socks, so let me mourn my first grey hair in peace!”

Fenris’ lips twitched. “It is hardly your first.”

“Whaaaaatttt?” Anders shot up – or attempted to. He only made it about a quarter of the way before he dropped back onto the couch with a wince of pain.

“You have been getting grey hairs for years now. And just so you know – the first one was not on your head.”

“How could you not tell me?!”

“I assumed you knew.”

“Well, I didn’t, thanks a lot. What about you, Pounce?” He waggled an accusing finger at the cat. “Were you in on this?”

The plump tabby looked unimpressed.

“I doubt he cares. That cat is going to love you regardless of how well you age.”

“Are you saying you _won’t_?”

“Jury’s still out,” Fenris replied. He didn’t manage to hide the twitch in his lips quite as well as he would have liked, though.

Anders failed to suppress a little twitching of his own. “Are you going to call me fat, next?”

“You have several more rounds of epicurean self-destruction to go before that term could be considered. And to be clear: I would not mind.” He grinned. “A little more meat on you might even be…enjoyable…”

“…I’m listening.”

 

 

The door slammed shut with a bang loud enough to send a rattle all the way to their living room. It was followed by the equally loud announcement “Garrett Hawke is no longer our friend!” and at last, by six feet of righteous outrage.

“I’m assuming you mean the royal “we”, since _I_ am meeting him for lunch next week.”

“Well,” Anders relented, “he might be our friend again by then. But this week, you’re obligated to hate him!”

“Alright,” Fenris nodded. “This week, Hawke is the worst. Care to tell me why?”

“I told him about my shocking grey hair discovery and he called me Grandpa. Grandpa! Just because I’ve got maybe a _handful_ of years on him… I’ll show that spoiled brat what a Grandpa is, I…”

“Why don’t you tell him to get off your lawn next? That will help.”

“Et tu, Fenris?”

He got up off the couch, walked into the hallway and put on his coat.

Anders called after him, “What are you doing?”

“I am going to the store to buy your weight in ice cream.”

He was almost out the door when strong arms encircled him from behind.

“Tell you what,” Anders murmured, his breath hot against Fenris’ ear as he slipped his hands beneath his clothes, “why don’t we go together…later, after we have…blown off some steam…”

“Wouldn’t that be past your bedtime?” Fenris was trying very hard not to let on just how much the way Anders’ hands were ghosting over his skin was affecting him.

“Oh, I’ll manage. It’s time I showed _you_ just how far from being a grandpa I am.”

“So long as it doesn’t break your brittle bones.”

There was no denying it, he deserved the slightly-harder-than-teasing bite to his neck. “Ts, ts, it’s almost as if you’re _asking_ me to spank you.”

“I might just be.”


End file.
